Cold Blue (21 page)

Fuck
.

THORPE’S PLANS OF INTERROGATING
PRICE
were dashed. The arrow from Thorpe’s compound bow didn’t have the incapacitating effect he’d hoped for, and the speed with which Price reacted was surprising. The man had been close to clearing his holster by the time Thorpe reached him. His safest option had been to knock him off his feet. Unfortunately, the blow had knocked Price straight through the back door, reactivating the house alarm.

The recognition of imminent death in Price’s eyes gave Thorpe a measure of satisfaction. He buried a large hunting knife in Price’s neck, severing both the internal and external carotid arteries as well as the internal jugular vein. He must have also penetrated Price’s spinal cord because death was instant. Purposely leaving the knife in his victim, he removed the dead man’s radio and cell phone and backed out the door.

Thorpe recovered his bow and case and exited the opening in the fence. As he made his way through the woods and down the steep hill he tossed the bow to the side and continued toward his car. Just before reaching the greenbelt, he knelt and retrieved a plastic bag from a pocket. Thorpe pulled off his gloves and put them in the bag, then pulled on a different pair and continued walking to the car.

Safely in the Ford, Thorpe drove south until he found a secluded area to reattach the license plate. He also activated the emergency button on Price’s radio; he saw no sense in having a family traumatized by returning to find a slain police officer in their home. The activation of the emergency button would have officers respond immediately to Price’s last known location. His lifeless body would be discovered within minutes.

Friday

February 9

Early Morning

AS SUPERVISOR OF THE DEPARTMENT’S
Homicide Unit, Sergeant Robert Hull didn’t respond to every murder scene. He did respond to most—and absolutely responded to any killing involving a police officer, especially when the officer was the victim. When Hull answered his page at 1:30 this morning, he’d been told a TPD officer had been killed on an alarm call and that no suspects were in custody. He hadn’t asked for the officer’s name; he wasn’t eager to know.

As Hull approached the entrance to the neighborhood, he encountered a patrol unit restricting access to the area. The officer manning the post waved him through, and Hull wove his way into the neighborhood. As he grew closer, he noticed the towers of several news vans. The carrion-enticed media were circling the fresh kill. There would be no shortage of discussion for the talking heads this Friday morning.

Hull passed the hungry-eyed reporters and continued to another checkpoint manned by three officers and police tape. He parked behind a string of modest, American-made sedans lining the street. As he stepped from his car, a blast of arctic air prompted him to return for his gloves before walking toward a large home that appeared to be the center of activity. He ducked under more tape as an officer in uniform marked his arrival on a clipboard.

“They’re all around back, Sarge. There’s a gate on your left.”

Hull nodded, walked across the yard’s dormant grass, through the gate, and around the corner of the home, where he was met by his gaunt detective. Chuck Lagrone stood shin deep in an ocean of leaves.

“Skull, whatta we got?”

“I’ve never seen a killing like this before, boss, let alone a cop. You know who it is right?”

Hull had been afraid to ask. “No.”

“Stephen Price.”

Hull released his held breath, relieved it hadn’t been an officer he was close to—or even liked for that matter. Then he experienced guilt over his initial reaction. His dueling emotions must have been apparent.

“Don’t worry about it, Bob. I didn’t care much for him either.”

“His uncle been notified yet?”

“Got two uniforms and a chaplain en route to his house. Should be arriving any minute now.”

“Better get some more officers on the perimeter. We don’t need him showing up and knocking down our crime scene.”

“I’ll put some guys on it. Come on, Bob, you better see this one for yourself, even if you don’t want to.”

The two men rounded the deck and ascended the wooden stairs, taking care not to step on potential evidence. The rear door stood open. Price lay on his back just inside the kitchen, his dark form in sharp contrast to the stark white tile. The first thing Hull saw was the large knife protruding from the side of Price’s neck. When he got closer he noticed the shaft of a metal arrow beneath the body. A significant amount of blood had pooled on the floor around the head. Hull was taken aback.

“Son of a bitch.”

“Fucked up, ain’t it?”

“That’s an understatement,” Hull breathed, then, “How pure is this scene?”

“Three officers stepped over the body and cleared the rest of the house for suspects. Two firemen entered and pronounced Price dead. After that, everyone exited the house and locked it down. The list of people who have been crawling around the backyard is more extensive. SIU is already finished with their video.” SIU was the department’s Special Investigation Unit. Its detectives were responsible for collecting evidence at major crime scenes.

“Damn. This isn’t your typical cop killing; he’s been assassinated.”

“Fucking looks that way.”

“He wearing a vest?”

“Yeah. The arrow penetrated. Don’t know how deep yet. Need to do some more processing before we start poking around the body.”

“Fuck. Tell me everything you know so far.”

Lagrone raised his notes and lowered his reading glasses. “According to dispatch, Price went 10-46 in his car at 2345 hours and 10-8 at 0015 hours. At 0035 dispatch received a rear-entry alarm at this residence—we’ll check with Smart Dog to get an exact time the alarm was tripped. At 0036 hours, dispatch assigned the call to Price who stated he would advise. At 0050, Price went 10-97. At 0101 hours, Price’s emergency button was activated on his handheld radio. At 0108, the first officer responding to the emergency activation arrived. At 0110, the responding officer reports an officer down; he requests EMSA, a supervisor and additional units. Fire arrives before EMSA and pronounces Price DOA, while three officers clear the rest of the house. When they’re done they tell the firemen to get out, then they walk out the front door so they don’t have to step over the body again. Additional officers clear the backyard and notice the lock to the shed has been cut off. They also discover several boards have been removed along the back fence.”

Lagrone motioned back toward the area where the boards were missing. “The fence is in pretty good shape, and it looks like the boards were recently pried loose. That’s all I got right now, boss.”

“Shit. This is fucked up, Skull. A damned bow and hunting knife! Son of a bitch.” Both men were unconsciously looking down with unfocused eyes at Price’s body while shaking their heads. “What about the homeowners?”

“Not home and haven’t been able to contact them yet. There’s a newspaper sitting at the end of their driveway, so maybe they haven’t been home today. Neighbors don’t know where they’re at; say they were here yesterday.” Lagrone looked at his watch. “Well, I guess it would be the day before yesterday now. Neighbors saw them Wednesday.”

“What do we got going?” Hull asked.

“We have a full call out. All the homicide detectives are either here, en route or being called. Uniforms are still conducting a canvass in the neighborhood asking if they’ve seen any cars or people that don’t belong in the area, asking about the family who lives here and if they’ve heard or seen anything suspicious. Got some lights en route so we can process the backyard.”

“These damn leaves are so thick the suspect could still be here and we wouldn’t know it,” Hull said, only half kidding.

“Looks like the lazy fuckers haven’t picked up a leaf the whole winter; it’ll take us weeks to sift through this shit.”

“Chuck, I realize it’s early, but you got any theories yet?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I want to say them out loud.”

“Price had a lot of people who didn’t like him, and a lot of them are on the department,” Hull answered for him.

“Yeah; remember 1982?” Lagrone was referring to a case in which a former Tulsa Police Officer, Jimmy Dean Stohler, shot the ex-girlfriend of another TPD officer in the chest, killing her. The weapon he’d used was a poison-tipped crossbow.

“Fuck...that’s all we need. With this being Price, Tulsa will have another race riot.”

Price was one of several black officers who’d accused TPD of discrimination. His name had been attached to many a lawsuit, and he was always happy to provide an outrageous quote for the local liberal rag. Although relations had greatly improved over the last couple of years, his past claims had earned him plenty of enemies on the department. And because of those previous allegations, his murder would be ample reason for the media to start speculating instead of reporting.

“By the way, look at Price’s gun belt. Notice anything?” Lagrone asked.

Hull studied the body for a minute. “His police radio’s gone.”

“Yup.”

“Huh. Do me a favor, Chuck. The chief and every other high-ranking fucknut are going to want in this backyard. Pass it on to the uniforms that no one enters the crime scene without my permission—that includes our illustrious chief; he can get his face time with the media some other place.”

Hull descended the deck and shuffled through the leaves to a mature tree where he leaned against its rough bark. He stuffed his gloved hands into his coat pockets and watched as SIU and his men went about their work. Over time, he blocked out the activity swirling around him. In his mind, he tried to picture the scene undisturbed by emergency personnel and through the killer’s eyes.

Lost in his own thoughts, the wash of crime-scene lights snapped Hull to attention. Looking down at his watch he realized he’d been leaning against the tree for nearly a half-hour, though it only felt like minutes. Hull stepped away from the tree and again trudged through the yard. After a thorough inspection, he returned to the deck and checked in with his senior detective.

“Got it figured out yet?” Lagrone asked.

“Got some theories brewing. Anything new?”

“A few things. Both the porch light and the kitchen light were on when the first officer arrived. He reported climbing the deck and finding Price. He’s feeling bad because he didn’t think to check Price’s pulse; he retreated and waited for his backers. Two backers show, one checks his pulse, can’t find one, and all three go inside to clear the house.

“Looks like the arrow penetrated the back of Price’s vest but not the front. May have hit bone, or just didn’t have the oomph to get through two panels of Kevlar and muscle. We were able to get hold of the family who lives here. They’re in Texas because the husband’s father had a heart attack. Wife or both will be back en route and should be here in five to seven hours. The house doesn’t look like it’s been burglarized, but we’ll have to wait till they arrive to know if anything’s missing. Marcus has been notified, as well as Price’s mother. The word is Marcus was somewhat unemotional about his nephew’s demise, but who knows what’s going on in his head. Everybody grieves in different ways.”

“Where’s Marcus at?” Hull asked.

“He’s still at home. He told the chaplains they could leave. We got someone sitting outside his house—just in case.”

“What are we doing with Price’s car?”

“It’s already been towed. We’ll process it in the barn.”

“Chuck, I’m going to talk to PIO.” The Public Information Office was responsible for disseminating information to the press. “Then I’ll talk to the brass. After that, I’m heading to the office to jot things down. If you come up with anything significant call my cell. Also make sure the area behind the house gets a thorough search. We’ll be looking for clothing, Price’s radio, a bow, whatever.”

“Will do.”

“One more thing, Skull. You notice the path that’s been cleared in the leaves?”

“Yeah, I saw that. Whattaya make of it?”

“Wouldn’t make any noise if you approached the deck from that path, would you?”

“No, no, you wouldn’t.”